


Snowbaz Song One-Shots

by dazzlemewithgold



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bottom Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Childhood Friends, Drunk Simon Snow, Drunk Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, M/M, One Shot, POV Third Person, Protective Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, SnowBaz, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Angst, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 15:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazzlemewithgold/pseuds/dazzlemewithgold
Summary: Snowbaz one-shots based upon various songs by various artists. I do not own these characters, nor do I own any of the music mentioned.





	Snowbaz Song One-Shots

The pressure of the wind felt harsh upon contact with his skin, yet, out of pure interest, he left it hanging there. Whilst affecting his hand, the breeze managed to slide through the open window and nest itself within his black locks. The corners of his mouth lifted, watching the _man_ beside him occasionally take his eyes off the road simply to gaze upon Baz’s, now messy, hair. A few trees flew past them as they drove on, and the radio crowded the gaps between their conversations, but still, the lack of words felt like such a _waste_. As time will forever continue; _slowly driving, for it knew no haste,_ _heading_ _toward eternity_. Whenever the two _boys_ exchanged words, their eyes sharpened in interest. Simon talking was like music to Baz’s ears. The familiar tone, the vibrations, and the pitch; they reassured him in the strangest way possible. And just then, inside the four walls of the moving vehicle, a sensation conveying hues of bright blue and light yellow, paired with the warmest of feelings, had overtaken the _young boy_. “I hate getting old,” Baz said.

 

A flare.

 

“Come on, Simon,” Baz called out, his voice still carrying a baby-like pitch, even for a 6-year-old. “It was just a movie. The scary man can’t hurt you.”

A muffled groan sounded from under the heavy, velvet blanket. A pair of hands clutched it over their body, a slight tremble adored them. It was followed by a small, almost unnoticeable, “No.”

“Simon,” the young boy dragged out his good friend’s name, only a modest hint of annoyance carrying through. “I promise, he can’t hurt you.” Baz popped up next to him, Simon’s small frame sat in the corner of a large couch. The boy’s black curls fell over his forehead as he grabbed the blanket by its edge and peeked underneath it; only to find Simon shivering ever so slightly, and a few shiny tears were scattered upon his cheeks. “Are you crying? Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Simon responded as he tried to wipe away his tears, covering up his move by pushing his bronze hair back. “I’m just scared.”

“That’s okay, I’ll protect you,” Baz said with a toothy smile, slowly freeing the boy of the blanket.

“You will?” He gazed at him, wide-eyed.

“I will,” Baz said in response, sliding off the couch and reaching his hand out to Simon. He waited a bit before his bare grasp fulfilled its purpose of helping Simon up, but, so it seemed, the two hands did not separate afterward. Both of them looked down at them in unison right before their glances, once again, focused back on each other. It took both of them a moment, but they flashed the smallest of smiles at each other as if asking _Is this okay with you?_ and answering _Yes._ at the same time.

They proceeded to walk up the stairs, determined on not letting their hands go. Opening the large doors into Basilton’s room, Baz could’ve felt the fresh air blow past him, settling into his hair with a smooth motion. Simon looked at the boy, his short, curly hair had been swept up with the lightest of ease, making it fly out, and later die down, in all sorts of different directions. The scared boy let out a small laugh, which slowly, but surely, developed into a full roar. Baz later joined in as well, obeying the happy sounds which came out of the boy. And as time went on, they were both splayed on the floor, laying on their backs; holding onto their ribs with one hand, and holding each other with the other. They could’ve sworn their ribs began to feel stiff from all the laughing, _tough_ , you could say.

The fit of laughter eventually subsided, and Baz watched on as Simon yawned, mouth open wide, rubbing his eye with his free hand. “Are you tired?” Baz questioned.

“Kinda,” Simon answered, a sleepy slur lingered his words.

“We should go sleep, then,” Baz said. Simon flashed him a small smile as a thank you. He was glad he wasn’t leaving him to sleep alone in the large, empty, and strange area that was the Pitch’s guest room.

The two of them climbed into Baz’s bed, it was big enough to hold them both, perhaps big enough to hold two full-grown adults, even. Letting go of Simon’s hand, Baz picked up the comforter and threw it over the two of them.  A peaceful quiet fell upon them as they slowly began to fall asleep, however, the peace was suddenly interrupted by a quiet whisper. “Baz?”

“Yes, Simon?” Baz answered sleepily.

“Would it bother you to hold my hand again?” He asked. Baz smiled to himself before turning around to face Simon again.

“Of course not,” he said before softly enclosing it within his grasp. Simon looked up with yet another, but now toothy, smile. “Simon?”

“Yes, Baz?” He answered with their roles now reversed.

“I feel like,” he began, yawning mid-sentence, “like you’re a good friend, something more than a good friend. I don’t know how to say it.”

“Like I’m the only friend you need?” Simon spoke back.

“Yeah, exactly. How did you know?”

“Because _you’re_ the only friend I need, too.”

 

A flare.

 

Now, back in the car, – resting at the edge of the road – the two boys stared at each other, not with their eyes but with their souls. The highway was empty, not a single wandering soul in sight. It was them, and only them, enjoying each other’s company in the dark. The headlights stretched out a beam of light in front of them, making the car hold a warm yellow glow. Simon’s hand rested on the armrest which sat between them, and Baz instinctively took it and held it within his grasp. Leaning in, they exchanged a soft kiss before resting their foreheads against each other, “Simon?”

“Yes, Baz?”

“I think I feel something _more_ towards you.”

“Let me guess, you can’t explain it?” Simon grinned, to which Baz chuckled in response.

“No, Simon, I think,” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I think I love you. No, I don’t think. I _know_.”

Simon looked into his eyes again, and with their foreheads still conjoined, he pushed himself into him ever so slightly, “I know I love you too, Baz.”

 

Baz smiled before leaning in, connecting his lips to Simon's.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You're the only friend I need,  
> Sharing beds like little kids,  
> And laughing 'til our ribs get tough,  
> But that will never be enough.


End file.
